Lily was very nervous as Saturday approached, but Lizzie, Betty and Alice were full of excited anticipation. Cherie had been pale and trembling at the prospect until Lily had told her that she was to help her with greeting the gentlemen and serving them with wine if they wanted it.
‘You’re not going upstairs,’ she had told her quietly. ‘That’s not for you, Cherie. I want you to blend into ’background and be ready with their coats and gloves when they leave.’
Cherie’s face flushed with relief. ‘Oh, I can do that, Lily,’ she said. ‘But I’d be so frightened to do the other. That’s why Lizzie’s allus looked after me.’
Lily smiled. ‘We’ll all look after you now, Cherie. But Jamie will expect you to do your bit, so we’ll have to show him how important it is for ’gentlemen to be looked after too. You’ll have to smile at them and mek ’em comfortable so that they’ll want to come back again.’
‘But I hate to think of what Lizzie and ’others have to do just to earn a living.’ Cherie’s eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. ‘It’s not right.’
‘It isn’t right,’ Lily agreed. ‘But it’s what happens when a woman has no other means of mekking a living.’ She took hold of Cherie’s hand. ‘But they’ll be safe here,’ she assured her, ‘and it’s not as if they haven’t done this sort of thing before. They know ’ways of men and what to expect. That doesn’t mek it right, I know, but ’men who’ll come have a need, for whatever reason, and ’girls can satisfy that need and mek ’em pay well for it,’ she added with some satisfaction.
Lizzie had tried on the red dress and it fitted and suited her, a perfect contrast against her dark hair. The bruises from her arms and face had faded; she had washed her hair and bathed in the tin bath which they had brought down into the kitchen where it was warm and to save carrying the hot water upstairs to the attic, and already she was looking healthier than when she had first arrived.
They had all bathed in the tin tub: Cherie first, before Lizzie; then it was topped up with more hot water and Alice and Betty took their turns. Apart from Cherie none of them were bashful and they washed each other’s hair and scrubbed each other’s back, giggling and chattering as they did so. Lily smilingly watched them; she felt very maternal towards them even though she was too young to be considered their mother substitute, but they all turned to her to ask questions as if she might have been an older sister.
Alice’s bruises hadn’t faded but were turning yellow; her face was still swollen and her eyelids were puffy, so it was decided that she wouldn’t be seeing any gentlemen just yet, but with a touch of powder on her face would help Cherie serve the drinks on Saturday. ‘I shan’t earn any money,’ she wailed. ‘And I still owe Jamie for last week’s rent.’
They had spent an afternoon trying on the clothes which Lizzie had chosen and Jamie had bought. Alice had selected a pale blue gown with an overskirt of white lace and short puff sleeves; she and Betty had almost come to blows as Betty had wanted it too. Lily stepped in to resolve the argument. ‘Alice should have it,’ she decided. ‘The pale blue suits her fair skin and hair. Your hair’s more golden, Betty, so will suit this other blue; look,’ she said, holding up the dress. ‘See how vibrant it is.’
And she was right, as Betty admitted when she tried it on. It was a rich deep blue with a flounced skirt piped with a satin edging and a bow at the back, with long sleeves coming to a point at the wrist.
Cherie had stood back waiting for her turn. She didn’t expect much as she wasn’t to be working, but Lizzie held up a dress that she had previously put over the back of a chair. ‘Try this, Cherie. I picked this out specially for you.’
Cherie pressed her lips together as she slipped off the grey dress. She wore just her cotton chemise and put up her thin arms for the new gown to be put over her head. ‘It’s lovely, Lizzie,’ she said shyly. ‘Can I really wear it on Saturday?’
‘Whew!’ the other girls screeched. ‘Cherie, you look lovely!’
The sprigged muslin gown seemed to bring out Cherie’s innocence. The skirt was full, the highwaisted, boned bodice, which laced at the back, not too low, having a lace fichu at the neckline, and satin ribbons floated from a bow at the front.
All the gowns were second- or even third- or fourth-hand, and some were worn in places or had a hem hanging down, but Lily was adept with a needle and was able to repair them; she’d always had to make her children’s clothes out of whatever material she could find, and in various cupboards or drawers in the house she managed to unearth what she needed, needles and thread or skeins of silk.
‘What about you, Lily? What’ll you wear?’ Alice asked her. ‘We’ve all found something, so now you must.’
‘There are two that I like,’ Lily confided, ‘and I don’t know which to choose.’ Lizzie had done well in gathering such a splendid selection. There was a fine wool gown in lilac, full with a stiffened underskirt and cut off the shoulder. The other one she liked was in a soft purple-black shot with a silver vein, with a deep neckline and a nipped-in waist and a full trailing skirt.
‘You must have ’em both,’ Lizzie said. ‘You can’t wear ’same frock every time you go to ’door. Try ’em on,’ she urged. ‘Let’s see.’
Lily had bathed the night before after everyone else had gone up to bed. She had lain in the tub in front of the range with her wet hair pinned up and reflected that this wasn’t her, not Lily Fowler formerly Leigh-Maddeson, a countrywoman with two children. This was someone entirely different.
She took the two gowns now and went away to her room and dressed in the black gown. She gazed at her reflection in the spotty cracked mirror. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘It’s definitely not me.’
The person looking back at her was tall and stately, without the ruddy rosy cheeks that came from living by the sea, but paler, making her amber-coloured eyes seem larger and more intense. Lily lifted her hair away from her face and pinned it up on top of her head, pulling down just a few strands around her ears to hang in tendrils at her cheeks.
‘Shoes,’ she muttered. ‘I haven’t any shoes!’ She only had the boots she had come in. ‘I can’t wear this wi’ my old boots.’
She picked up her skirt and went through into the parlour where the others were waiting and stood poised in the doorway.
The four young women turned to look at her. For a moment they said nothing, just gazing in silence. Then Lizzie said, in a hushed almost reverential whisper, ‘Lily! You look magnificent. Like a duchess!’
Betty took in a breath. ‘I can’t believe it’s you!’ she said. ‘When I first saw you at Hope House, you were so – so dowly. I know you’d just lost a bairn, but even so you were …’ she struggled for words, not wanting to be offensive.
‘A peasant?’ Lily suggested, smiling at the astonishment on their faces.
‘Well, yes,’ Betty admitted. ‘But now you’re so – so grand!’
‘Glorious,’ Alice said.
‘Lovely,’ added Cherie.
‘What’s going on?’ Jamie’s voice came through from the hall. ‘What ’you all up to?’
He stopped as he saw Lily and his eyes opened wide. ‘Whew!’ he said. ‘Who’s this?’ He circled round her. ‘You look tremendous.’ He grinned slyly. ‘The gents will be mad for you, Lily. Are you sure you won’t—’
‘Quite sure,’ she said firmly. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘Well, when they see you at ’front door they’ll know they’re in for a treat.’
‘I haven’t any shoes,’ she said, lifting her skirt to show her bare feet. ‘I’ve onny – only got my boots.’
He sighed. ‘Is there no end to spending money? Can’t any of you lend her a pair?’
They all shook their heads. A second pair of boots or shoes was unheard of.
‘Black slippers,’ Lizzie suggested. ‘They won’t cost as much as shoes.’
Jamie reluctantly agreed and put his hand in his pocket to bring out some money. ‘Go to Rena’s, then. I’m just off to fetch ’wine and a cask of ale. There’s a couple more girls due to come.’
‘Who are they?’ Lizzie asked. ‘I hope they’re decent.’ She had become proprietorial, not really willing to admit anyone else to their group.
‘Who do you think you are?’ Jamie admonished her. ‘They’re all right. Been around a bit. Hope you’ve saved ’em summat to wear. Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’ve got some bookings. You lot can have gents and they can have whoever else comes.’
‘Which rooms shall these women have?’ Betty asked. ‘We’ve all chosen ours.’
He gave an exasperated exclamation as he went out. ‘Whichever’s free,’ he said. ‘I don’t really care.’
Lily took off the dress and carefully draped it over the back of a chair. So this is it, she thought. Tomorrow night my life changes. I still don’t know if I’m doing right. I’m not. It’s abhorrent to me. But the girls don’t seem to mind too much. Perhaps they just accept what is to be.
She asked them, Lizzie, Betty and Alice, what they thought of when they were with strange men.
‘If they’re married, I wonder why they’re with me,’ Alice said softly. ‘I wonder what it is that drives them from home to search out a girl like me. If I had a husband I’d make sure he stayed at home.’
‘I don’t think about them at all,’ Lizzie said sourly. ‘I onny know what idiots they are to part wi’ their money.’ She gave a smirk. ‘But while they’re at it, I add up what I’m earning and what I’ll do with it.’ Her expression changed to a wistful one. ‘But there’s never enough, not after I’ve eaten or paid for a room to sleep; there’s never been enough left to put by for owt else.’
Lily glanced at Betty who was sitting quietly listening. She was the odd one out, not quite one of the girls, not always joining in their chatter, and, although not aloof, tended to be rather reserved. Lily hesitated, not wanting to pry into what her thoughts were as she sold her body to strangers.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’ Betty said. ‘Don’t you want to know what I think about?’ She looked at each of them in turn, her final glance lingering on Cherie.
‘Onny if you want to tell us,’ Lily said softly. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘You’re ’onny family I’ve got now so why shouldn’t I tell you?’ Betty swallowed, and then said huskily, ‘My father disowned me and my ma went along with his decision. That’s why I’m what I am; but when I’m wi’ a stranger’ – she pressed her lips together – ‘I think about my babby.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I loved his da, and I thought he loved me. I was onny about ’same age Cherie is, and I trusted him – was persuaded by him – and when I knew I was expecting I was so excited; I thought, fool that I was,’ she added bitterly, ‘that we’d be married. But he didn’t want to know.’
Her voice caught on a sob. ‘I managed at first, even though my da had turned me out. I found a room and got a job but it didn’t last and that was when I went on ’streets.’ Her eyes glistened; a tear slid down the side of her nose and she brushed it away with her fingertips. ‘I loved my babby but as he got bigger I couldn’t leave him by himself all night, so I took him to this woman; she looked after lots of bairns and I thought he’d be all right. But one night he was very fretful. He had teeth coming through and I told her to give him some Godfrey’s Cordial or Daffy’s if he couldn’t sleep.’
Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t speak. When she did her voice was thick with emotion. ‘But when I went back to collect him ’following morning – he was dead.’ Her mouth opened and she began a distressing sobbing wail. ‘She’d given him laudanum! She said she couldn’t stand ’racket he was mekking and swore she’d onny given him a drop to mek him sleep.’
Betty put her head down to her knees and sobbed and sobbed, her shoulders shaking. Alice went towards her but Lily put out her hand to stay her and shook her head. Betty had to cry out all her sorrow. Sad enough to have lost a child before full term as she had, but to have known one and loved him, to have dandled him on your knee and sung a lullaby, and then to have lost him must have been heartbreaking.
They all stayed silent; Cherie wept. Alice had her fingers clutched to her mouth and Lizzie stood with her arms crossed tightly in front of her staring into the fire, whilst Mrs Flitt, who had been busying herself in the kitchen but had come into the parlour to see Lily in her finery, slipped back into the kitchen, crept into her cupboard and closed the door.
Betty lifted her head. Her eyes were red and swollen. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘So you see, I think about my Tommy and how he was made with love and passion, mine at any rate, and these men,’ she spat out the word, ‘they think of nowt but themselves and their pleasure and nowt of what they’re doing to us, and yet we’re the ones who get ’blame. It’s us who have to go to court and are called vile names and get sent to prison, and it’s us who get diseased.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Sometimes,’ she said in a low voice, ‘sometimes I wish I was dead.’